


Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

by neaf



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Angst, Choose Your Own Ending, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choose-Your-Own-Adventure style story written in May 2011 for Chris's 21st Birthday. </p><p>It's the night of Chris's birthday on tour, and his castmates have plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Start Here

**Author's Note:**

> This story occurs in a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure format. In order to operate the story you will need to utilize the chapter menu. At the end of each chapter you will be presented with two options (usually themed around angst, fluff, porn, etc). 
> 
> Select the desired option (and the chapter listed beside it) to progress to the next part of the story. There are multiple stories within this one fic, so you can always begin again and choose a different path the next time.

Chris had never paid that much attention to elevator music.  
  
He was usually lost in conversation or jokes, or too tired and slumping with longing for a warm bed to lift his head and actually listen. But, in this instance, the slow climb to the eleventh floor of their lush hotel in Anaheim felt like an eternity, and the lonely strain of violins trickled down the walls like water.  
  
The lift slid smoothly to a stop and chimed, the doors gliding open soundlessly to reveal a dark corridor. He narrowed his eyes, and stepped from the bright lights of the mirrored box into the shadows. Given the ominous setting, and his friends intentions for the evening, he decided absently that the _Imperial March_ may have been more appropriate than _Pachelbel's Canon in D_.  
  
Third door on the left, he reminded himself, and wandered down the hall to find it. It was double-doors, in fact, with red ropes leading up to them and _Private Function_ printed in calligraphy on a gold sign. He smiled, shook his head, and went inside.  
  
The chorus of _Happy Birthday!_ was almost deafening, and he stumbled for a moment, face lit up in amusement and surprise at the sheer volume of people. Everyone from the tour seemed to be there, and he pressed his hands to his mouth in awe. " _Ooooh_ my god."  
  
"Hey!" Cory came loping over to him, wrapping him up in a bear hug. "Happy Birthday!"  
  
"Yes, you mentioned," Chris said shakily. "Wow, this is..."  
  
"Pretty cool, huh?" Cory beamed, waving an arm around the room.   
  
The rest of the cast had crowded in for hugs and happy-birthdays, and between each embrace Chris found himself staring, slack-jawed, at his surroundings. It was a convention room of some sort, decorated with streamers and balloons and flowing curtains of fabric - to the left a private bar, to the right a private DJ. The dance floor was slowly being populated by bouncing party-goers as the opening notes of the Scissor Sister's _I Don't Feel Like Dancing_ popped and echoed off the walls.  
  
"You need a drink!" Naya poked him with a sharp finger before fisting a handful of his shirt and dragging him along behind her, waving an arm in the air as she shouted, "Out of the way, bitches!"  
  
Chris laughed as he was guided roughly to the bar, surrounded by a pack of his friends.  
  
"So, you're the birthday boy, then!" The bartender grinned at him and flicked her hair back. "What'll it be for your first drink?"  
  
"Sex on the Beach!" Heather bumped her fist on the bar.  
  
"Sex on the Beach is a really misleading name," Chord added, sliding onto a stool by the bar. When he realised all eyes were on him, he clarified, "I mean, the cocktail is a whole lot better than sex on an actual beach."  
  
"Well they couldn't exactly call it Sand in Your Ass, could they?" Ashley retorted, and the group broke down in giggles and snorting laughter.  
  
"Can you imagine trying to order it?" Heather asked through shaking breaths. "Yes, bartender, I'd like some Sand in Your Ass?"  
  
Chris felt light-headed and unsteady between the laughter and the alcohol already in his system. He didn't have the heart to tell them it wasn't his first drink of the day - that when he finished his last number that night, Darren was waiting for him in the wings with a shotglass and cheshire-cat grin.  
  
He was suddenly reminded of the tang of salt and skin, the burn of tequila down his throat, and the nervous giddy rush of excitement when Darren pushed the lime against his teeth.  
  
It was then he realised what was missing.   
  
"I'll have a margarita," Chris nodded at the bartender, and looked quickly around the room, wondering where Darren was. He could see some of the Warblers sliding around on the dance floor with Kevin and Harry, but that tell-tale mop of dark curls was nowhere in sight.  
  
They moved as a group to one of the tables set up at the back of the room, and Chris sipped quietly at his drink while his fellow cast members told stories of their twenty-firsts, and all the mad drunken hijinks that ensued. He'd tuned in and out, intermittently, for most of it - unable to stop himself from scanning the room every few minutes.   
  
"Hey," Dianna said softly under the ruckus of the conversation, leaning in. "What's up?"   
  
Chris smiled at her and shook his head quickly. "Nothing, nothing, just - enjoying the buzz." He splayed his free hand for emphasis, but her expression remained a calm and knowing smile.  
  
"He's probably just running late, that's all. He wouldn't miss this."  
  
Chris's brow lifted, and his lips curled into a tiny embarrassed smile as he took another sip. She was probably right, but he couldn't fight the gnawing clench in his gut, or the whisper in the back of his head telling him that Darren was busy, always busy, and was probably out playing another gig, or supporting another cause, or helping an old lady across a street somewhere. Was out there, somewhere else, doing more important things.   
  
He reached the end of his cocktail and caught a mouthful of tequila, and there it was again, the flash and burn in the back of his mind, stinging his senses. Salt and skin. The sour taste of lime.  
  
Across the table, Mark pulled himself out of his chair, still chuckling at something Amber had said. He felt a tugging on the hem of his shirt, and looked down at Cory, who was tilting his bottle end-up to demonstrate how empty it was and pouting his bottom lip out as far as it would go.  
  
Mark rolled his eyes. "Seriously, dude?"  
  
Cory blinked a few times, and continued to pout.  
  
Mark put on his best mock-attentive face. "What's that Lassie? Thirsty?"  
  
Chris laughed at them fondly.  
  
"Who wants another one?" Mark pointed around the table, and received mostly nos until he locked eyes on Chris. "What about you, birthday man, you want another one?"  
  
Chris blinked, and stared up at him for a moment, trying to make a decision. 

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE:

For **Angst** \- select _"Yes! I'll Have Another Drink!"_ from the chapter menu

For **Sexual Tension & Smut **\- select _"No, Not Just Yet"_ from the chapter menu


	2. Yes! I'll Have Another Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack playing during this piece is _Poison & Wine_ by the Civil Wars.

"Yes!" Chris announced, pushing his empty glass along the table. "Same again, thanks."  
  
The night staggered on with each round of drinks blurring into the next, and it was around the time he lost count of empty glasses that he figured Darren wasn't actually coming.  
  
He let the girls drag him to the dance floor on more than one occasion, shaking around messily to the mixed strains of pop music and forgetting whose hands were on him at any given point in time. It was innocent enough, friends having fun, but his mind was elsewhere and his body hadn't been in his control for at least an hour.  
  
Chris couldn't remember how he'd ended up slumped against the wall at the back of the room under a low-hanging sheet of glittering red fabric, sipping the melted ice from his glass awkwardly. A pair of silver heels came into view, and he trailed his gaze up tapered legs and the ruffled fabric of a shimmering blue dress to stare at Dianna's stunning face, clouded in concern. She shifted on her feet briefly, stepping to his side and sliding down the wall next to him.  
  
They sat in silence for a moment before she curled an arm around his shoulder. "I'm sorry."   
  
Chris smiled, but there was little humour in it. The music track changed, and the slow notes of a familiar song began to play. A flicker from the past came surging up, blinding him.  
  
 _"The Civil Wars," Darren had said with a smile, handing him the CD. "These guys are awesome, you gotta listen."  
  
"Ah, yes," Chris had smiled back. "The continuence of my musical re-education at the hands of Darren Criss. Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this someday?"_  
  
The memory was too clear, even in his hazy state. Somewhere deep inside him, a twinge struck at his heart, and he winced.   
  
"They don't let us stand next to each other," he said suddenly, breaking the tension.  
  
Dianna looked at him questioningly, and he downed the last of his watery beverage. "At events," he went on, slurring every third or fourth word as he pushed the glass away. "On stage. We're not supposed to sit next to each other. Because of the press."  
  
She squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. "It won't be like this forever," she insisted.  
  
Chris laughed without even knowing what was so funny. After a moment the laughter turned into a sob, and then another as the chorus of the music washed over them.  
  
"Oh, sweetheart," she cradled his head against her chest as he shook with the force of his tears.  
  
"Shhh," Dianna rubbed his back comfortingly. "It's okay, you'll be okay."  
  
"Where is he?" Chris uttered wetly, brokenly, into her shoulder. "Why isn't he here?"  
  
Dianna looked at her phone over his shoulder quickly. Still no new messages. She'd sent four, but still no reply.  
  
Chris clung to her tightly until the ache had dulled into numbness, and the tears were silent. For awhile he simply rested there, lost and warm in his friend's arms, until he noticed a few of the crew glancing concernedly in their direction. He swallowed hard, and screwed his eyes shut tight as the room began to spin. "I need to get out of here," he mumbled softly.  
  
She brushed her fingers through his hair affectionately and gave him a sad smile. "Okay," she said, climbing up and helping him to his feet. "Let's get you to your room."  
  
They made their way through the hotel silently, Chris wobbling and swaying with every few steps and Dianna desperately trying to keep him upright until they turned the corner leading up to his assigned room.  
  
She stopped still, her face widening into surprise when she caught sight of Darren.  
  
He was damp with sweat, hair a mess and tie askew as his chest heaved breathlessly, his face drawn in lines of misery and desperation. After a long moment, he finally saw them at the end of the hall.  
  
Chris blinked blearily at him, and his breath hitched. "You're here."  
  
"Chris, I - god, I'm so sorry," Darren said pleadingly, rushing towards them. "The cab broke down, and I left my phone at the show, and I couldn't get another cab," Darren explained quickly, still struggling to regain his breath. "So I just - I just _ran_."  
  
Chris waved a hand weakly, trying to feign casual. "It's fine, I'm... fine, I just drank too much. I need to get - cleaned up. And get to bed."  
  
Darren wrapped an arm around his waist, and Dianna let him take over supporting Chris's weight. She brushed her friend's cheek gently, and kissed him lightly on the jaw.   
  
Her eyes turned to Darren, and hardened a little. "Take care of him," she instructed sternly, pointing a finger in Darren's face.  
  
Darren gave her a curt nod. "Always."  
  
As she wandered back down the hall slowly, Dianna glanced once more time over her shoulder and smiled as the two boys disappeared into their hotel room.

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE:

For **Angst/Romance** \- select _"Stay in the Bedroom"_ from the chapter menu

For **Friendship** \- select _"Move to the Bathroom"_ from the chapter menu


	3. No, Not Just Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for this piece is _Somewhere a Clock is Ticking_ by Snow Patrol.

"Not just yet," Chris said, smiling up at him.  
  
Mark shrugged, and wandered off to the bar as Lea started the story of her twenty-first birthday. Before he could chime in with a joke at her use of the term "pink bits" to describe the party decorations, Chris felt an arm slide across his chest and the press of skin on his neck as he was drawn into a backwards hug.  
  
"Ahh!" he cried, and his body tingled as Darren laughed against him.  
  
"Happy Birthday, man!" Darren all but shouted over the music excitedly, bouncing a little as he stood up straight. "I'm sorry I'm late, my cab broke down."  
  
"It's fine," Chris waved a hand dismissively. "I'm just glad you made it."  
  
"Wouldn't miss it for the world. You need a drink?"  
  
Chris shook his head. "But you have to catch up, so go!"  
  
Darren gave him a broad grin and a giddy thumbs up as he all but skipped over to the bar. The last few strains of Katy Perry faded into a heavy bass beat of Pink, and Chris wondered with a slight blush if they'd hijacked his iPod and given it to the DJ.  
  
By the time Mark and Darren had returned with their drinks, the girls were up on their feet and ready to dance, and the boys had settled into a discussion about wildlife tours - which was now being punctuated every so often by Mark offering sage knowledge about different species of birds in different regions.  
  
Chris tried to listen, but his mind wandered off, and he watched with a faint smile as his Warbler friends danced and swayed with the girls.  
  
He stirred from his reverie when Darren leaned over to him, now on his third shot, and slung an arm over his shoulder. "You gonna come and dance?" he asked, hot breath gusting over Chris's ear.   
  
Chris shivered involuntarily, feeling the heat in his face, and nodded. "Maybe," he narrowed his eyes. "I need another shot first."  
  
Darren grinned and pulled back, grabbing Chris's hand and lifting it to his mouth. Chris's jaw dropped as Darren's tongue swept across the skin above his thumb in one long line, and it took him a moment to remember what air was.  
  
He'd licked his own hand quickly, like an afterthought, and dusted salt over the wet stripe on both of them before arranging the shotglasses and the wedges of lime. "Alright, on three - one, two, three, go!"  
  
Chris remembered the pattern correctly this time, lick, sip, suck. The sour strains of juice down his throat made him shudder, and he shook himself free of the clenching feeling after a moment, enjoying the warm burn in his chest.   
  
"Ha ha!" Darren grinned broadly at him, hands darting every which way in excitement. "And now we dance!" he announced in a loud and strange accent, hooking Chris's arm and pulling him from his chair.  
  
They reached the dance floor and were greeted with a loud chorus of cheers, the girls immediately grappling for Chris and drawing him into their circle as Pat Benetar's voice shuddered through the speakers.   
  
He shifted around awkwardly between the swaying and bouncing bodies, feeling the hum of the alcohol in his veins and the heady lift of the music. Everything seemed dark and bright at the same time, shadows blurred into glittering colour and balloons bobbed comically together in time to the beat.  
  
The song faded out into Rihanna's _Rude Boy_ , and he laughed and clapped as Lea and Dianna started grinding to the beat emphatically, making faces and swivelling their hips against each other. The bass of the song sent vibrations up Chris's body, and he began to feel a strange heat in his hips, a tension that wasn't there before. _Just the alcohol_ , he insisted to himself, and kept on bopping up against a very enthusiastic Harry.  
  
As the song headed towards its end he found himself face to face with Darren, still grinning from ear to ear, but this time it was a strange kind of smile. Affectionate, but different from before - like there was something else there.   
  
The next song crackled and slid out of the speakers, and Chris found himself holding his breath as the familiar sound shook the air around him. Without a word, Darren stepped into his space, and rocked slightly, almost like an invitation.  
  
The bass thrummed in a long, low pattern, notes blending together hauntingly and prickling his skin into goosebumps. Chris felt the air change, something in him coiled up tight, and his mouth fell open slightly, wordlessly, in surprise.  
  
Darren slid silently around behind him, hand ghosting over his waist, moving to the music. They began to shift together, unbearably slowly, hanging on the aching undertone of the song. Chris's eyes were downcast to the side, looking to his shoulder but not past it, catching the flicker of skin and hazel eyes in his peripheral vision as they danced.   
  
His hips clenched and he stuttered for air at the gust of warm breath against his neck. It took a moment for Chris to realise that Darren wasn't actually touching him. Somehow, it felt like he was. It felt like _all of him_ was.  
  
Darren's hands pressed into his waist, and Chris gasped softly at the sudden sensation, eyes fluttering closed. Darren rolled his hips forward with the music, pressing their thighs together briefly, and again, as they writhed against each other under the shadows of the dance floor. Slowly, his hand snaked across Chris's hips, and he tucked his fingers into the front of his jeans.  
  
"I could do most anything to you," he whispered in time to the music, and Chris felt his knees tremble violently, dropping his body down into the perfect curve of Darren's hips.   
  
Darren pushed up, grinding into the motion, and Chris's hands shook and clutched to him frantically as his breath caught and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. His mind swam in the heady heat around them, dizzy and stuttering over any conscious thought beyond a violent awareness of the ache pooling low inside him.  
  
They rocked together slowly, Darren's hands mapping light patterns across Chris's body through his shirt. Chris moaned softly, unable to stop himself.  
  
"We should," Darren whispered, his own voice shaking. "We should probably... go."  
  
Chris nodded quickly, not trusting his own voice, and his eyes drifted open to glance around the dance floor. Nobody had noticed their dance, or at least, nobody was looking their way - most of their co-workers seemed lost in their own slow dancing or corner-conversations.   
  
He felt Darren's fingers slip between his own and pull gently, guiding him off the dance floor and around the side wall of the room in the darker shadows as they headed for the door. Past the hallway, the elevator chimed and they scrambled inside, hitting the wall with a harsh thud as Darren pressed his whole body to Chris and kissed him deeply.  
  
"Button," Chris managed to mumble against Darren's mouth. Darren pulled back briefly, his face drawn in confusion.  
  
"Floor. We need to," Chris struggled for air. "Button."  
  
"Right," Darren spun and swatted at the keypad, lighting up the little number four with precision.   
  
He turned back to Chris and paused, breathless, watching him with dark and burning eyes. Chris's mouth curved into a tiny smile, and he reached out a long arm, twining fingers around a fistful of Darren's shirt and pulling him closer.  
  
Darren's gaze didn't falter as he was drawn in, and he pressed both hands to the glass either side of Chris, dropping his eyes to the wet line of Chris's mouth.  
  
Chris watched him, chest trembling, hand still curled in his shirt as Darren moved in and sucked Chris's lower lip into his mouth.  
  
The tiny noise that escaped him was desperate and keening, and Chris wondered all at once if he'd actually made it. The kiss grew stronger, more desperate, and Chris fought for control, knees shaking and long fingers bruising patterns into Darren's hips.  
  
"I need to," Darren groaned into his mouth as Chris slid a thigh between his legs, "I need to be able to smell you in my clothes. I need to be able to taste you on my tongue when I breathe."  
  
Chris's head rocked back and he let out a low moan as Darren's mouth wandered down his throat, teeth grazing skin.  
  
The door chimed again, and Chris fisted two handfuls of Darren's shirt, pushing him back and out the door towards their room.

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE:

For **Smut** \- select _"Bed. Now."_ from the chapter menu

For **Fluff** \- select _"The Morning After"_ from the chapter menu (note: you can select this after reading the smut portion as well)


	4. Stay in the Bedroom

Chris leaned heavily against him, unable to balance his own weight in any capacity now, but Darren managed to keep them moving steadily across the room.  
  
"You weren't," Chris stammered drunkenly. "You weren't there, and your cab..."  
  
"Broke down," Darren confirmed. "I'm so sorry, man, I tried so hard to get here, I just - I started running and I got lost a couple of times. I'm just glad I got to see you."  
  
"Not like this," Chris snuffled gently. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."  
  
Darren swung him down carefully onto the end of the bed, and knelt down in front of him, cupping both hands around Chris's jaw. "I know, I know, but I'm here now."  
  
Chris heaved a shaky breath, staring back at him, his mouth trembling.  
  
"Please don't cry," Darren begged brokenly. "Please, I don't think I can take it."  
  
After a moment of searching, Chris tipped forward, burying his face in Darren's neck and trying to control his breathing. "It was my birthday," he uttered. " _I missed you._ "  
  
He felt Darren's arms circling around him, one hand grazing the back of his neck and another gliding smoothly over his shoulderblades.   
  
"I know," Darren said gently, pressing his mouth into Chris's hair and letting his eyes drift closed.   
  
They stayed still for a moment, but it was the drag of Chris's fingers gliding over his chest that made Darren shift. He felt Chris pull back for a moment, and without warning their mouths were crashing together, sliding and wet and desperate. Darren could taste the tequila, the twinge of salt, and everything that was just _Chris_ \- all of it gliding over his tongue in perfect, messy, bruising motions. His mind stuttered for language, and all conscious thought vanished like light spreading out and escaping into the event horizon.  
  
Eventually, Chris broke away, eyes still closed as he gasped for air. Their temples resting together, Darren breathed roughly with him and brushed a thumb across the back of Chris's neck in comfort. "I want to," Darren managed. "I do, Chris, I want to, but we can't."  
  
Chris's breath drew in two sharp, involuntary bursts.  
  
"You're drunk, and I can't - I can't take advantage of that," Darren explained helplessly, clinging to him, hoping with everything he had that Chris would understand. "Please, I need you to know, I want to."  
  
Chris nodded weakly, eyes still closed. "I know, I know," he managed. "I just. I needed to remember... what you taste like."  
  
Darren smiled, his eyes still huge and sad. "Let me know when you start to forget," he whispered, pressing his lips to Chris's gently, drawing the lower into his mouth and sucking for a moment before he let go, "and I'll remind you."  
  
Chris huffed out a laugh, and opened his eyes. "I'm drunk right now," he mumbled. "My memory only lasts about thirty seconds at a time."  
  
Darren's smile spread into a grin, and he pulled his hand around from the back of Chris's neck to cup his cheek. "Sounds good to me."  
  
He rocked up on his knees, finding Chris's mouth and pressing in as they shifted up the bed together in long movements, hands sliding on skin, legs intertwining when they settled. Darren could feel Chris's hands on his back, stroking at the muscles of his shoulders and down his spine as they got lost in each other.  
  
Entangled, they lay still in the quiet of the night, content to revel in the taste and the touch as the hours drifted by. Darren could feel the heat of Chris under him, the beat of his heart thrumming slow and steady, the lift of his chest with each breath - all of it a comfort, a blessing. Chris was here, safe in his arms, unbroken by the world and his to keep.  
  
The morning would bring a new day, and with it the burden they always carried. It was the story of their lives, the price they'd always pay. But at least, for this one moment, they could linger. For this one moment, they could belong to each other again. 

(FIN)

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE:

To read a different path, simply return to "Start Here" in the chapter menu.


	5. Move to the Bathroom

Darren wobbled a little as they staggered inside, trying to support Chris and keep them both from toppling over in a heap.  
  
"Oh, god," Chris moaned. "I feel sick."  
  
Darren chuckled lightly, and repositioned his arms around Chris's waist, making sure Chris had a firm grip on his shoulders. "Sounds about right," he said, guiding them towards the bathroom.  
  
They barely made it to the toilet before Chris began to throw up, body heaving as he clutched to the porcelain bowl. With a sympathetic wince, Darren settled down on the tiles next to him, rubbing his back gently.  
  
"Let me die," Chris groaned, his voice echoing slightly.  
  
Darren snickered. "It'll pass."  
  
After another round, Darren shifted closer, looping an arm around Chris's waist and supporting his weak and exhausted frame. He sighed gently, hoping it would stop soon, and that Chris might be able to retain some fond memory of the evening. Everything that could have gone wrong had so far, and Darren quietly cursed at their seemingly eternal misfortune.  
  
Once his body had settled down, Chris leaned heavily against the bathroom bench while Darren climbed to his feet. Before Chris could register he'd left, he was already back and gently wiping Chris's face with a damp cloth, stroking gently at the space above Chris's ear with the thumb of his free hand. Chris watched him, stunned and bleary through the tears the violence of his sickness had forced up. "Thank you," he said softly.  
  
"Anytime," Darren smiled, casting the cloth over to a basket in the corner. He handed Chris a bottle of water. "Three of those before you get to sleep."  
  
Chris blinked, and took it from him. "Three?"  
  
"Then tomorrow, no pain."  
  
Nodding slowly, Chris opened the bottle and sipped at it gingerly. He closed his eyes and sighed after the cool water rushed down his throat, soothing the raw feeling the alcohol had left him with.   
  
"Did you at least have a good time, for awhile?" Darren asked gently, eyes bright with concern.  
  
Chris watched him, unsure at first how to reply. "I did," he said finally. "Everybody was - it was great. I just... wished you were there."  
  
Darren smiled sadly. "I tried."  
  
"I know," Chris answered quickly, taking another long drink. "Just. Wanted to share my birthday with my best friend. We don't get to share much else."  
  
With a slow nod, Darren let his gaze fall to the tiles. He knew how badly their imposed distance affected Chris. No photos together unless they were pre-organized, always separate seating at any event. It was hard, but with the warped and gossip-hungry talons of the press scraping at their feet, it was the only thing that kept them safe from potential PR disaster or widespread and damaging misunderstandings.  
  
Chris felt responsible, he always had, no matter how many times he was assured by the higher-ups that it wasn't about him. That it wasn't about being gay.  
  
But it was. They both knew that much, even if it was never said aloud.   
  
It was why Darren's chest squeezed tight and his body shook from the ache of it. Why it hurt sometimes just to stand one foot away. Because all of it was so violently, heartbreakingly unfair. He just wanted to live in a world where it was okay to hold his best friend.  
  
Without realising, he'd reached out and drawn Chris into his arms on the floor of the bathroom, clinging to him quietly and letting him rest against his shoulder. He smiled to himself, and pressed a gentle kiss into Chris's hair. "We should get you to bed, you're gonna be sore in the morning if you sit on these tiles much longer."  
  
Chris nodded weakly, and pulled back to take another long drink from the bottle of water, finishing it off. They climbed to their feet together, and Chris rested an arm around Darren's shoulders as they wandered back to the main room.   
  
He shifted awkwardly once they reached the bedside, and seated himself with little grace. "I just wish... it wasn't... so unfair," he mumbled.  
  
"I don't," Darren said gently, handing him another bottle of water and letting out a breathy laugh at Chris's confused expression.  
  
"Think about it," Darren went on. "I just - I think, wouldn't it be terrible if the world _were_ fair, and all the awful things that happen to people happen because we actually deserve them?"  
  
Chris blinked, considering.  
  
"So now," Darren leaned in and kissed his forehead. "I take great comfort in the vast and dizzying unfairness of the universe," he met Chris's eyes intensely. "Because we are better men for the things that we survive."  
  
Chris felt a tear wash down his cheek as he smiled. "I hate you, sometimes."  
  
"No you don't," Darren patted his knee comfortingly as he stood up straight. "You just hate it when I'm right."  
  
Chris watched him stand and move towards the door. "Are you staying?" he asked quickly.  
  
Darren glanced over his shoulder, nose scrunched up and brows furrowed. "Of course I am," he said in his best don't-be-stupid tone of voice as he stopped by the door, rummaging through the suitcases they'd both left open on the floor.   
  
He gathered handfuls of clothes from both cases, and returned quickly, dropping Chris's pyjamas on his lap. "Get changed, I'm gonna have a quick shower because I still smell like I ran a hundred miles. I'll be back in a sec."  
  
Chris nodded, fumbling over the soft grey shirt as Darren disappeared into the next room.  
  
It took Chris longer than he would've liked to get changed, mostly because he kept falling face-first onto the bed trying to get his feet into the legs of his pants. Eventually he managed to get into the fresh clothes, and threw his old ones across the room without a care, settling back down to finish his third bottle of water and realising that wow, he really had to pee.  
  
As if on cue, Darren emerged from the bathroom, damp and with his t-shirt clinging messily to his chest. Chris managed to stagger past him in a relatively straight line, smacking him on the shoulder and announcing "Tag!" before he disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
Darren chuckled, shaking his head and wishing he hadn't missed the highlights of drunk Chris. There would always be another night, he figured. It wasn't the end of the world.  
  
He heard the flush, followed by the splash of the bathroom sink before Chris wandered back out and beelined for the bed, throwing back the covers and faceplanting on the pillow. Darren watched, eyes lit up in amusement as he padded barefoot across the room. "Did you drink all the-"  
  
"Yes," Chris answered, cutting him off.  
  
"Good," Darren said gently, lifting the quilt and sliding into bed next to him. He settled on his side, jaw resting in the palm of his hand on a propped elbow, watching his friend wriggle down into the bedding.   
  
After a moment in the stillness, Chris shifted, scrambling under the quilt and finding Darren's free arm. He tugged on it firmly, pulling it over his waist like he would a blanket. Darren laughed quietly, letting his body roll into the motion and settling down against Chris, face pressed against the back of his neck.  
  
The quiet washed over them, and Chris fell asleep in moments, breathing slow and steady. In the morning he would wake up, blinking and weary, and eventually the worst elements of the night would come back to him. But in the fraction of a moment when his mind crawled to consciousness, the first thing he'd remember of his twenty-first birthday would be falling asleep in the arms of his best friend. 

(FIN)

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	6. Bed. Now.

They burst through the door in a tangled frenzy of limbs, bumping into chairs and crashing into walls as they staggered across the room. The door thumped quietly closed in their wake.  
  
Darren managed to control their haphazard movement, fingers working at the buttons of Chris's shirt blindly before pushing it off his shoulders and sinking his fingers into muscle. Chris moaned softly into his mouth at the feeling of warm, calloused fingertips dragging across his bare skin.  
  
Breaking away for a moment, Darren arched, peeling his own shirt off and dropping it to the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck absently, trying to regain his breath as he raked his eyes over Chris's wiry frame. He reached out instinctively, pressing a flat palm with splayed fingers to Chris's ribs and pushing him back gently against the table.  
  
Chris felt his breath catch in his throat as Darren pressed a second hand to his chest, fingers tracing the contours of his body like a promise. They found each other's mouths, passionate and needy like they'd never want air again. Darren let out a muffled noise as he moaned into Chris's mouth, and Chris sucked the very sound off his tongue.  
  
Darren let his hands drop, scrambling for purchase on the edge of the table as they kissed. He managed to find it blindly, cupping Chris's ass and lifting him up so he could slide between his legs. Chris let out a tiny broken sound at the sensation of being wrapped around someone, thighs pressing into Darren's sides as they clung to each other.  
  
Darren's fingers worked at Chris's jeans, and finally pushed them down past his hips in jerky, blind movements, his mouth pressing kisses along the line of Chris's jaw and down his throat to his pulse. Chris sucked in what air he could, eyes rolling back as the heady rush of need washed over him and Darren's mouth trailed ever lower.  
  
He jerked involuntarily, hips bucking as Darren's tongue swiped across a nipple, and he could feel the grin of Darren's mouth against his skin. Darren repeated the motion, sucking gently and grazing with his teeth, and Chris let out a startled, punctured sound at the hot lick of pleasure it sent straight to his cock. " _Jesus_ , Darren... ungh," he whimpered, and barely recognized the sound of his own voice.  
  
Darren pressed a hand to Chris's chest in reply, pushing him gently back down onto the table. Helpless and trembling, Chris let himself fall back, eyes flickering in confusion before Darren gripped the sides of his boxers and slid them down, making his intentions fairly clear.  
  
Chris's heart pounded in his ears, and the hot, wet sensation of Darren's mouth drawing patterns inside his thigh made him tremor, his hands struggling to find something to hold onto.  
  
Darren stopped for a moment, glancing up and watching Chris's head tip back as he slid his palm along the hard line of his cock experimentally. Satisfied, he curled his fingers around the base and slid his mouth over the head, tongue grazing slowly along the underside. Chris jerked and let out a stuttered, broken noise, back arching up off the table as Darren took him all at once, and again, sucking wetly with each rocking motion. Chris felt the hard press of Darren's palm on his hip, holding him down, keeping his hips from jerking up too hard. Something about being held down made Chris moan, long and low, as Darren pushed harder and moved faster, his hand now stroking in concert with the pull of his mouth.  
  
Chris's hands flexed involuntarily, fingers white and gripping to the table as he felt the intense, rolling heat stutter low in his hips. "Darren," he warned brokenly, his voice still strange and strained. "I'm going to - you should -"  
  
Darren didn't move, or change pace, instead sucking harder and humming softly in acknowledgement. The sensation hit Chris like a gunshot, and he cried out, his body spasming and his hips jerking him up and deeper into Darren's mouth as he came. Darren rocked with the motion, sucking slowly still through the shuddering aftershocks of Chris's orgasm.  
  
Chest heaving in long, shaky breaths, Chris struggled for words, his mouth hanging open in amazement.  
  
With one final, slow drag of his tongue, Darren drew himself back and let a smile curl at the corner of his mouth as Chris jolted, still sensitive in the wake.  
  
"That... was..." Chris managed at last. "You are... surprisingly good at that."  
  
"You'll find there are a lot of things I'm surprisingly good at," Darren said coyly, snatching a bottle of water from the top of the small hotel fridge and taking a sip. He grinned. "Happy Birthday."  
  
Propping himself up on his elbows, Chris smiled, still drawing deep breaths though his mouth. His eyes slid over the line of Darren's jeans. "It's not over yet."  
  
Darren tilted his head, eyeing Chris carefully. "You sure?"  
  
"Shut up," Chris instructed. "And come here."  
  
Darren's eyes flashed wide quickly, and went dark again as he put down his water bottle and undid his jeans. Chris kicked off his shoes and socks, and the pants still coiled around his ankles, and watched as Darren undressed slowly, never averting his gaze.  
  
Chris slid off the table and closed the gap between them with one step, tangling his hands in Darren's hair as they kissed and rocked together, skin pressing on skin. He could feel the hard length of Darren between their bodies, feel the needy jerk of Darren's hips as they moved together back towards the bed.  
  
The edge of it hit the back of Darren's legs and he fell, Chris climbing on top of him and pushing them up the bed with firm, demanding hands as he explored Darren's mouth. His eyes flickered open quickly to gauge the distance to the bedside table, and he broke the kiss just long enough to reach over and retrieve what they needed from the drawer. Darren watched him, breathless. "Chris," he said softly. "You don't have to."  
  
Chris pressed their foreheads together, letting out an exasperated sigh. "You and me," he said slowly. "We were never, ever about _have to._ "  
  
Darren let out a shaky breath, and nodded against him, mouth curling into a tiny smile as he stared down at Chris's lips.   
  
Chris pressed down with his hips and rocked back, grinding against the hard length between them. He smirked at the desperate sound Darren made, the way his eyes slammed shut and his mouth fell open. A little proud, Chris raised an eyebrow and uncapped the bottle in his hands, squeezing some of the liquid gently onto his fingers.  
  
Lifting himself up onto his knees, Chris stretched a long arm behind himself and pushed a finger in, hissing air almost silently through his teeth at the burn as he pressed deeper.  
  
Darren's eyes opened, and he watched while Chris rocked in front of him, shifting in tiny motions on his own hand.  
  
" _Fuck_ , Chris," Darren breathed.  
  
Chris's eyes drifted closed as he moved his hand slowly, riding out the familiar twinge long enough to add a second finger. Darren's hands found the bottle and he wet his fingers quickly, rocking up and capturing Chris's hand, pulling it away.   
  
Stunned, Chris looked down as Darren grazed his mouth across the lines of muscle on Chris's stomach, and he twitched involuntarily at the sharp swell of heat that shot straight down him. He could feel himself getting hard again, and lifted a hand to the back of Darren's head, tangling it in his hair as Darren traced him with a wet finger, and pressed inside.  
  
Chris let out a guttural sound, hips shuddering, one arm slack at his side as the other twisted curls between his fingers. "Two, please, _god_ , Darren."  
  
Darren sucked skin into his mouth, pressing another finger inside and trembling at the noise Chris made. He scissored gently, working him open and revelling in the taste of him on his tongue.  
  
After a third, Chris scrambled for the condom, tearing the packet open with shaking hands and tipping forward as he slid it down onto Darren in one long, rough stroke. Darren grunted, eyes slamming shut as his hips jerked him desperately up into Chris's hand.  
  
"It's easier," Chris uttered, pressing long wet kisses to his mouth, "if I turn around."  
  
"No," Darren begged. "Just - lie back. Just trust me."  
  
With a nod, he let Darren's hands guide him down and their positions reversed. Darren rasied Chris's hips off the bed as he slid between his legs, letting them coil around his body while he leaned down and kissed him again, hungry and desperate and aching.  
  
He broke away with a soft, wet sound as he caught Chris's eyes, and pressed himself inside.  
  
Chris gasped, and his head tipped back while Darren pulled back gently, and pressed in again, deeper each time. Chris could hear their breathing in concert, loud and uneven and full of tiny, needy noises as their bodies slid together and Darren moved inside him.  
  
It was so much more than it had ever been, so much more than he'd ever felt, and his whole being stuttered and shook from the feeling, the ache and the perfect, unnameable pleasure that coursed through every inch of him. Darren fucked him slowly, carefully and deeply, lingering in the heat and the tight squeeze of Chris's body all around him. Chris could feel everything, the heady rush of it humming under his skin as Darren filled him completely, and it was all he could do not to cry out every time he pulled back.  
  
They rocked together slowly, swallowing each other's moaning, broken sounds. Chris let his eyes flutter closed as Darren watched him, and he could feel his hips rising up to every thrust, feel the jolt of his body each time Darren brushed that place inside him that sent sparks to every nerve. He stammered over words, his head lolling to the side in ecstasy, "Darren, _please_ , I need to," he uttered in a barely audible voice. "God. _Darren._ "  
  
Without a word Darren shifted, pushing in and stilling himself there, hand wrapping firmly around Chris's cock and pumping him in slow, rough motions. Chris bit down on his lip, shuddering and fisting handfuls of the bedspread as the heat and the blinding wave washed over him. He jerked up into Darren's hand violently, crying out as his whole body tensed and coiled with the pounding, dizzying rush.  
  
As he settled back down onto the bed, breathless and trembling, Darren slid back carefully, and pressed in again, speeding up his movements and letting his head hang as the sensation built up inside him.  
  
Chris watched, eyes still glassy and pupils blown, as Darren thrust inside him in a few more hard, uncontrollable bursts, and his frame shook with the release as he came.  
  
They both grew still, bodies sweat-damp and heaving in whatever air they could, slowly coming back down. With a tiny groan, Darren slipped out of him, and Chris let his legs fall to the bed so Darren could roll onto his side.  
  
"Oh my god," Darren breathed, eyes drifting open and closed and open again.  
  
Chris chuckled breathily, and eyed Darren fondly as he shifted on the bed, pressing his cheek to Chris's chest and tracing a line down Chris's thigh with a free hand.  
  
"Well," Chris said lightly. "Happy Birthday to me." 

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	7. The Morning After

Darren woke up early the next morning, drawing in a long, loud breath and blinking blearily at his unfamiliar surroundings. He rubbed his eyes gently, and the memory of tequila and lime came swimming back into focus. With a smile, he let his head tip sideways on his pillow, eyes catching morning sunglight as they fell on the sleeping man next to him.  
  
Chris lay silently on his stomach, tead tilted in Darren's direction, body rising and falling in a slow rhythm. His expression was unreadable, but calm as he slept, and his hair was now spiked and twisted at absurd angles from drying against the pillow. Darren's smile widened, and he rolled onto his side to get a closer look.  
  
He reached out tentatively, hand tracing over the blades of Chris's shoulders and the dips and angles of his back. Everything about Chris's body left him breathless and still with wonder - the shift of his shoulders when he walked, the line of his jaw, even the flash of his throat when he breathed. Everything about Chris left him speechless, fumbling over words. He'd never met anything, or anyone, that beautiful before.  
  
Chris snuffled quietly and his body swelled with a deep breath. Darren watched him stir, and waited till those two blinking blue eyes finally landed on him.  
  
"Good morning," he said, voice a little deeper and more raw than he'd have liked.  
  
Chris blinked again, and smiled, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed the heel of his palm against his face and tried for conscious thought. "Morning."  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
Chris laughed into his pillow, the sound soft and musical. "Sore. Thank you."  
  
Darren's head tipped back as he laughed in return. He calmed himself, and nodded with a braod grin. "Not what I meant, but - sure, that works."  
  
"What did you mean, then?" Chris asked sleepily, affection in his eyes.  
  
"Do you feel older?"  
  
Chris thought for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "I don't think so."  
  
"Then you're right on schedule for the day after you turn twenty-one," Darren informed him in gentle mocking tones.  
  
With another laugh, Chris closed his eyes. "I don't want to get up."  
  
"You don't have to," Darren said, glancing over his shoulder at the alarm clock. "It's early yet, go back to sleep."  
  
Chris smiled into his pillow and mumbled fondly, "I like you, you say nice things."  
  
"And you're adorable when you're barely conscious," Darren retorted.  
  
"Shut up," Chris managed before his breath evened out, and he slipped away again.  
  
Darren watched him silently for a moment, smiling, before he pulled the blanket up carefully to keep him warm.   
  
"You know," he said in a whisper. "I've seen some pretty crazy shit, and done some pretty awesome things, and met some ... truly mind-blowing people," he slipped an arm across Chris's waist, and kissed his shoulder gently. "But you're still the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me, Chris Colfer. Happy Birthday."  
  
Curling up, Darren rested his head on Chris's back, and slowly drifted off to sleep. 

(FIN)

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End file.
